


From Above the Clouds, Among the Gods, A Toast!

by godtiermeme



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy, Drabble, F/F, Fluff, Homestuck Artists Discord, Humor, M/M, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 14:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17869223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtiermeme/pseuds/godtiermeme
Summary: After everything they've been through, don't these kids just deserve some fucking spaghetti and a nice date?





	From Above the Clouds, Among the Gods, A Toast!

**Author's Note:**

> written for the homestuck artists discord for the valentine's day 2019 event! please know that [**the fragrance of dark coffee [jazz remix]**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HMnrl0tmd3k) is _absolutely_ playing in the background of everything that's happening in this little fic. o7

After everything they've seen, and all the things they've done, two pairs of gods sit at a round table, situated beneath a gazebo among the clouds. A short, bald, spunky little carapace, its skin pure white, stands at the edge of this setup, faking that it's playing a violin. (Despite having to be dressed like a cherub, this entire affair is no skin off its teeth; the gods pay outrageous amounts to the denizens of the world to do small tasks, such as this, for them.) A tall, elaborate glass bottle, filled with only the finest Brobubble™ brand soda, sits in the middle of the table, atop the white tablecloth.

“Okay, kids, we're gonna’ lay out some ground rules here, at this little shindig, before any real shit can hit the fuckin’ fan, ‘right?” A man, his eyes hidden behind reflective black aviators, and a wide grin spread across his pale face, speaks first. “We ain't putting up with _any_ form of make-outs. No mackin‘, no smackin’, and _absolutely_ no snackin’. Understand? Second, after whatever the fuck happened at Jake and Dirk's dumbass little party, all karaoke is banned, by decree of pretty much everyone else on the God Cloud—!”

Another of the table's occupants interjects, baring pointed teeth. Amidst his wild, wiry black hair is a pair of nubby orange horns. His voice is nasal and gravelly, sounding a lot like that of a stereotypical male anime protagonist. “If you call this place the God Cloud _one more fucking time_ , I swear I will crush your puny little nutrient chute with my bare hands, and fling you out of heaven myself.” As if to demonstrate his ability to do so, he lobs one of the many, still-steaming bread rolls off the table, and over the edge of the fluffy precipice. Where it will land is anyone's guess, and none of the four people involved are really concerned about that.

In fact, Dave merely laughs. “Aw, Care Bear, always the jokester.”

“I don't believe that he is joking, Dave,” whispers Kanaya, another of the table's occupants. Her lips, stained with jade green lipstick, twitch, forming a small smirk.

“Kanaya, we all know that Karkat will not hesitate to fling Dave straight out of heaven. It's simply a matter of when, in the course of eternity, it will happen,” Rose, the last of the attendees to speak, says. A snicker of laughter—during which she envisions Dave Strider falling from the sky, at terminal velocity, with his usual look of apathy—punctuates the statement. “By the way, Dave, I'd advise you to not call Karkat ‘Care Bear’ again.”

“And why not? Why can't I give my own boyfriend cute nicknames?” Dave asks, putting on an almost convincing display of genuine offense. He is fully aware of the fact that Karkat is now furiously stabbing a whole tomato with an increasingly blunting fork, but he doesn't really give a fuck.

Needless to say, the subject of the names does. “Because all of your nicknames are the aural equivalent of gorging myself on a fist-full of finely grated glass. You say a word, and I take a spoonful of tiny knives to the chitinous windhole, you thick-skulled dumbass!”

Rose, in the meantime, has already begun to dig into the meal, which just so happens to be comprised of a large plate of the world's greatest spaghetti. (At least, that's what Jane claims. Not that there's any doubt that she could create such a thing, though there remains some suspicion among the dinner-eaters that this is just an elaborate cake, made to look like spaghetti. Fortunately, after a tentative test bite, Rose confirms that this is not true.) “How much do you want, dear?”

Kanaya, after sizing up both the plate and her nonexistent appetite, owing to the fact that she is not an immortal goddess, shrugs. “I'll start out with a little.” She covers her mouth and leans over, whispering the next bit in Rose's ear, “I've never actually had spah-get-ee before.”

A gasp and a momentary pause precede Rose's reply. “That's terrible! No wonder Alternia was such a terrible place!” Though her girlfriend asked for ‘a little’, she puts a bit more than that on her plate. “By all means, please indulge in the human delicacy that is spaghetti. It's truly food for the soul.”

“Thank you very much, Rosie, I will.” With that, Kanaya takes a bite. She mulls over the flavors and, while she can name exactly zero of them, she concedes that the food is, indeed, delicious. She eagerly digs back in, to Rose's visible satisfaction. After a few bites, she cleanses her palate with some of the provided soft drink, before eating one of the rolls. At the same time, she fondly reminisces, “Remember the first time us trolls ate bread?”

Rose laughs. “Of course I do! Sollux wouldn't have any of it! ‘I sure as hell _will not_ be eating any of that lumpy shit’,” she recites, mimicking the tech-savvy troll's vastly improved (but still vaguely noticeable) lisp. “John and Jane, and Jane's Dad, too! They all collaborated to create it as a surprise for all of us. The one-month anniversary of our release from the SBURB construct.”

By now, Kanaya, too, is in stitches. She sets aside her fork, unable to eat, speak, and laugh all at once. “Oh, but it was so delicious! So warm, and soft, and fluffy!” A pleasant warmth rises to her cheeks as she recalls the taste. And, when she finally calms enough to take another bite of the roll, she finds herself falling in love with the floury baked good all over again. “I'm glad you're here, with me, to share the experience.”

“As am I,” concurs Rose, grinning. By now, her cheeks have turned a faint shade of pink, and she can't help but steal a brief kiss from Kanaya.

After all, Dave and Karkat aren't paying much attention. In fact, they're both still playfully bickering between one another. (Not that the average outsider might register the banter as anything but vaguely hostile.)

“You foul-smelling little hoofbeast turd,” Karkat snarks, his arms folded firmly across his chest, “I _will not_ eat the spaghetti like the barkbeasts in that stupid movie!”

“But you loved _Lady and the Tramp_ , remember?” About halfway split between being genuinely and ironically disheartened by this development, Dave slurps the last bit of the long strand of pasta into his mouth. “What, you think you'll get fuckin’ cooties?”

“I don't even know what a ‘cootie’ is,” counters Karkat, emphasizing his words with air quotes. “Once again, Dave, you prove that there's nothing but a vast, empty cavern where your fucking think pan should be. Knock knock. Hello, this is common sense, here to make a delivery at the fucking empty headspace of Dave Strider, but, as fucking usual, nobody's home! Might as well pack our bags and add it to the outrageously high tab that we've been running for fuck-knows-how-many sweeps!”

“Years. Humans don't use sweeps, nerd.”

“God! You're insufferable!”

“I _am_ a god. And I'm _your_ god, hot and ready, fresh from the SBURB oven, ready for you to eat me up like the freshest Digiorno Pizza you've ever laid a fuckin’ peeperbulb on.” Somehow, Dave manages to keep a straight face as he says this.

“ _Gander_ bulb, Dave. They're ganderbulbs, and it amazes me that I'm stuck in a situation where I'll be forced to put up with you for all of eternity. What a miserable, pissy little existence I'll lead. Woe is me, Karkat absolutely-fucking-doomed Vantas.”

“Well, now, the good thing here is that you'll have this fine hunk ‘o’ meat to accompany you through eternity, right?” Dave waggles his brows, so that they show over the browline of his shades.

In an absolutely-not-romantic-at-all-and-actually-quite-dorky spur-of-the-moment decision, Karkat leans in. He plants his lips firmly on Dave's, an action which throws both men off balance, and sprawling onto the floor.

Arms flail. Hands push against the ground, though not in unison, and the shock turns a tender moment into a sudden wrestling match. While the men writhe around on the ground, like heaven's most incompetent little idiots, their double date companions are more than happy to watch.

“Dammit, Strider, that's your knee in my ruminating organ!” Karkat yelps.

“Yeah!? Well, that's your goddamned horn in my tender little man nipple!”

“Stop hitting your head against my jaw!”

“Quit hittin’ your jaw on my head, then!”

In the most gregarious show of tomfoolery possible, this ends with both men gracelessly wriggling themselves over the edge of the dating platform. As they both begin hurtling towards the ground, they finally manage to separate, at which point they both begin to laugh.

“That's it!” Karkat declares, trying (but failing) to sound serious, “We're breaking up. This is the _absolute worst_ date I've ever been on.”

“Ditto.” A pause. Dave looks down, to a rapidly approaching expanse of shimmering blue. “Oh, shit, boys, we're joining the Navy!”

“What's the Na—?” A dramatic splash, followed by an incredibly tall pillar of displaced seawater, prevents Karkat from finishing his inquiry.

And, by the time both men have bobbed back to the surface, still in stitches, neither one really remembers what the other one was saying. Not that it really matters, since they rarely have anything truly insightful to say these days, anyhow. At least, not when you put them together. On an individual level, each man can be incredibly deep and thoughtful, and might even provide help with managing the world that SBURB created. However, when paired together, as this entire affair has demonstrated, all matters devolve into pointless, friendly jabs and floundering romance.

Far above this scene, leaning over the edge of the clouds, though taking great care not to follow the Strider-Vantas way, Rose and Kanaya ponder what's just happened.

“Do you suppose we should help them?” Kanaya asks, cocking her head a bit to the side. “I know they can ascend easily, but... they did just wrestle their way into oblivion, it seems...”

Rose takes barely a second to think about her response. “Nah,” she says, waving her hand in the air, “No point in letting this spaghetti go to waste. I'm sure they'll be back when they're ready. Knowing them, they're trying to figure out what to tell some unfortunate passing fisherman what he's just witnessed. We'll hear about it later, I assure you.” She stands and offers her hand out, to Kanaya.

The gesture is accepted, and both women rise to their feet together. As they return to the table, Kanaya makes a final statement on the matter, “Well, now that they're gone, shall we break out that secret stash?”

“OH! Thank you, dear!” Rose scurries off, digs into a nearby cooler, and pries from its icy depths a pure black pint container, “Dirk's special French Vanilla of Bel Air™ ice cream! Yes, we might as well celebrate our newfound single date!” After dumping out Dave and Karkat's stemware, emptying their soda into the ocean below (and likely confusing random sailors below), she places one scoop of the frozen dairy delicacy into each glass. Raising her own, for a toast, she grins. “To my lovely girlfriend, and our idiot companions! May they never change!”

“Indeed!” There's a clink, the sound of a chair sliding against stone, and the resuming of all the former discussion, as if two men had not just hurdled over the edge of heaven.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading this little oneshot! if you like it, feel free to check out [my dumbass blog](godtiermeme.tumblr.com) or my [my dumbass art blog](tt40art.tumblr.com).


End file.
